Wheel Of Misfortune
by AragothwinElfBlade
Summary: Songfic about Danny's view on his life. Set to Wheel of Misfortune by the Dropkick Murphys. Rating for some swearing


Cowboys and coppers verse injuns and robbers,

Take a guess for which side I was prone

Maniacal pleasures and a taste for misfortune,

The legacy for which I was known

When he was young, Danny had often sat with Old Mickey on the stoop in front of his apartment building. Everyone else called Mickey senile, the crueler ones taunted him to his face. Only Danny knew that behind the crazy facade lay sharp cunning that could rival a fox's. Even when Danny did the stupidest thing in his life, Mickey had made sense. Sixteen, young, inexperienced, and nervous he showed Mickey the Tanglewood tattoo on his shoulder. He could still remember the wariness in those dark eyes. "The price of that ink is your life, son," Mickey told him, "be sure you're ready to pay it."

Down and out, I scream and I shout.

For this man from whom I need my advice

If the price is your life son, you'd better think twice,

As you march to the front like a soldier

He'd paid that price alright. Thirteen ER visits later, he rolled. Doing everything but begging Sonny, Danny was granted out. With a sigh of relief, he left the Tanglewoods to their own devices and went to play baseball. The second year in the minor leagues he got into bar fight which ended his pitching career. Angry and hurting he went back to the stoop. "There isn't any justice in the world, son," Mickey told him gently," except what you make." Those words of wisdom led Danny into the Police Academy and college at the same time. If baseball wasn't the answer, maybe science was.

So you'd think I'd aspire for greatness,

Hell-bent to make a name on my own

Genetically programmed for the Wheel of Misfortune,

I'm an heir to an unwanted throne

Mickey told him before he left, "There's poison in your blood, son. You were born from a thief into a den of thieves. The only way you can live is by finding the antidote." Danny thought he found it. That antidote. With every drop of blue from the uniforms he around every day to the unnatural lighting of the courtroom, he was convinced the poison was gone. Then the shit hit the fucking fan.

Sonny fucking Sassone. A piece of unfinished business coming back to bite him in the ass. It didn't matter that Danny kept his nose clean, that he'd never really hurt anyone. Papa Messer's name made everything he'd ever done irrelevant. He was a Messer, all Messers were scum.

Down and out, I scream and I shout.

For this man from whom I need my advice

If the price is your life son, you'd better think twice,

As you march to the front like a soldier

Fumbling with the tie, he stared at his reflection. This was his fuck-up, he'd deal with it. A dead cop, Jesus. What would Mickey say? "Poison, son. It's that poison blood of yours." He wasn't a cop, he was just playing at being one of the good guys. The cost of the ink on his shoulder was his life. The cost of the blood in his veins was sin. Fingers ran over soft blonde hair and stubborn features, cobalt eyes took in the scruffiness of his goatee. "I hate you," he told the man deceptively calm. "I hate you. I hate you, you gangbanger, street-trash punk. Your whole family's crooked and so are you."

Now they've all got their theories,

Opinions and such about this man who is down on his luck

Well the offers are plenty,

M options are many,

Still I opt to face my problems alone.

In the distance, Danny heard Mac's words but they didn't register. Like the guy had any right to yell at him anyways. Every since the Tanglewood thing it was like Mac didn't care. As long as Danny stayed out of the way and out of sight anything went. So why now? And he didn't even want to know why. That's the reason Danny spoke to IAB without him. That's the reason he'd been ignoring Flack and Aiden's messages. He had always faced his problems alone. This was no different than when he was jumped by the Pelham boys all those years ago. You took your lumps like a man and didn't say anything to anybody.

Down and out, I scream and I shout.

For this man from whom I need my advice

If the price is your life son, you'd better think twice

As you march to the front like a soldier

This time there was no Mickey with his alternately pessimistic and encouraging tidbits of wisdom on his stoop. Danny had no one to turn to for advice. As he trudged up to his apartment, he couldn't help but wonder if this was really worth it. His whole life had been dogged by misfortune, and every time he tried to face it he only got knocked back down. Clenching his jaw, he prepared to do the only thing his stubborn pride would let him. Tomorrow he'd go into work and do his job to the best of his ability. It was the only thing he could do.

Author's Note:

This song is "Wheel of Misfortune" by the Dropkick Murphys from the album 'Gang's All Here.' If you haven't heard of them, I'd suggest you check them out. They're an Irish-American punk band from Boston. A lot of there stuff could probably be used for songfics for CSI: NY (hint, hint!).


End file.
